


Self Restraint

by AurumCelest



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Denial, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 16:18:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11740668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AurumCelest/pseuds/AurumCelest
Summary: All he had to do was say one word and you would let him overload.





	Self Restraint

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so very much to everyone who bookmarked, kudos, and left a comment (I read them even if I didn't respond) on my last fic. Constructive criticism always welcomed!

“I won’t say it.”

“Are you sure?  You can end it all right now.”

“I.  Will.  Not.”

You let out a thoughtful hum from your position kneeled in between Ambus’ thigh.  He always had to be difficult, you think as you take a finger and start circling around the outside of his dripping valve.  Transfluid is already seeping out making a small puddle on the berth, but still he wouldn’t give in.

“It's a disgusting _fake_ word and I won't say it.”  

He's pulling lightly at the stasis cuff bounding his hands over his head to the top of the berth as though testing its strength.  You don't say anything though, instead giving him a sly smile as you swipe across his anterior node lightly with your thumb.  You hear his vents hitch a bit as you do so and you see his mouth drop open, little puffs of air escaping his overheating frame.  You give the node another swipe and then proceed to ignore his valve completely, choosing instead to lavish your attention on his spike.  A light scrape of your nails, from the base to the tip, has Ambus letting out a strangled moan, as his arms struggling useless against his cuff, pulling on it so hard you swear you can hear something bend.

You immediately pull back from touching him and he gives out a shuddering exhale, in relief or in disappointment you’re not quite sure. A glance at the clock that sits at the head of the berth, position in a way that Ambus can’t see, shows that 45 minutes has passed since you’ve began, but it must seem like hours for Ambus.  An endless cycle of pushing him closer to overload before pulling back completely, leaving him panting and wanting.  How did you convince him to even agree to this situation? Well...

* * *

 

You stare quietly as you stand next to Ultra Magnus as Rodimus attempts to pull off a triple backflip from the deck onto the Captain’s chair.  For the fourth time in the span of about an hour, he fails yet again, smashing sideways onto the floor and skidding to a stop right before slamming right into Blaster.  You feel Magnus slowly intake air and exhaling again through his vent as though heaving a tremendous sigh.

“At least he didn't land on you this time,” you mutter as you see Rodimus get up.  He dusts himself off, does a few stretches to make sure nothing is broken, before pointing at you with a wide smile.

“I'm gonna get it this time.  Fifth time's the charm,” he exclaims and you give him a big smile and two thumbs up before he's jogging back up the stairs to try again.

“He crazy,” you say as you watch Rodimus try to calculate his landing...or pretend to try.  He just seems to be making a lot of hand motion as though measuring the distance with his fingers will help with his landing.

It takes you a moment, but you realize that Magnus didn't correct your earlier sentence.  You turn to look at him and he's just staring ahead mouth set in a frown.  A loud crash makes that frown deeper, and the ensuing argument between Rodimus and the poor bot he landed on (probably Blaster) makes Magnus grit his denta together but he doesn't say a word.  No yelling, no lecture, nothing.  

“You have a lot of self restraint.”

Magnus tilts his head slightly towards you at your comment.

“What do you mean by ‘self restraint’?”

“Well...I would've tossed him off the ship by now.”

“I’ve trained myself to be this way.  I’m proud to say I have a lot of self restraint.”

“Oh?  How much?”

His attention is entirely trained on you at this point, probably using you as a distraction from the escalating argument that is happening nearby.

“Is that a challenge I hear?”

You smile at him in answer and set out your challenge.  It was simple really.  You would have an hour to do whatever you could to get him to say one word.  If he didn’t say it then he wins and you would concede that he had the self restraint of a god.  If he did say it, you would win and you could dangle that fact over him and rub it in his face.  When you told him the word you wanted him to say he sputtered.

“That’s not a real word.”

“Does it matter if it's a real word or not?”

“I’m not going to say a fake word that isn’t real.”

“One, that was kind of redundant sentence.  Two...you’re already giving up?”

“What’s Mags giving up on?” Rodimus, seemingly bored his argument, butts into your conversation.  You see Blaster throw his arms up in exasperation as he walks away.

“I’m not giving up on anything.”

“So is that a yes?”

“What’s going on guys?  Tell me!”

“You won’t break me.”  Ultra Magnus narrows his optics at you and you give him a smug smile.  Rodimus stands to the side looking confused and slightly irritated at being left out.

“Anyone gonna tell me or am I gonna have to pull rank?”

“Hey Roddy, you think you could do a front flip into the chair?” you ask to distract him and Magnus covers his face with a hand as Rodimus runs off to the deck to try it out.

* * *

The quietness of the room pulls your attention back to Ambus.  His arms hang limp from the cuffs and his head is laying down, tilted to the side with his optics powered off.  More importantly though is that his cooling fans are at a low hum which means it’s time for you to play again.

“How are you feeling?”  Your question gives him a start and he lifts his head up to look at you, optics dimmed.

“You only have a few minutes left.”  You hear an underlying smugness in his voice which makes you smile at him.  There’s still 15 minutes left, his chronometer is off.

“You might actually win Ambus,”  you say as you begin to trace the edges of his spike plating, “or you might not.”

He has a cute spike. Predominately white with green, slightly glowing, highlights where the segments overlap.  After a few moments you decide to take a finger and dig slightly underneath where the segments overlap.  When you do Ambus legs clenches upward towards his chassis to the point where only the tips of his pedes are touching the berth.  You drag your finger out and he relaxes a bit, letting his legs go limp and lying his pedes flat again .  You go back to tracing for a bit before digging underneath again and, like before, his legs clenches upward and you drag your finger out again.  The cycle repeats.  Trace, dig, clench, drag out.  His chassis is heaving at this point and the tip of his spike is beading with transfluid, enough that a line of it has dripped down the side of his spike.  A good sign for you to sit back and wait for him to calm down.  A glance at the clock tells you 12 minutes left.

“Are you cheating?”  Ambus manages to ask you as soon as he's calm down.

You arch an eyebrow at him.

“Cheating?”

“An hour must have been done by now.”

“Oh Ambus.”

That's all you give him before leaning forward, your weight on your hands, and lick the green stripe running on the underside of his spike from base to tip.

A loud clang pulls your attention up.  He’s pulling hard on the cuffs and you’re sure something has been bent this time.  His hands are clenched tight and his pedes are scraping against the berth.  9 minutes left, it's about time to end this.

“Poor Ambus,” you wrap one of your hand around the base of his spike as you lean closer to his spike, “Poor poor Ambus.”

You wrap your lips around the tip and suck.

Ambus lets out a sound you’ve never heard before.  You’re not sure if it sounded more like a moan or a sob, but you couldn't mistake the pure desperation in it.  It sounded so desperate and needy and so,so sweet to your ears.  Sweet enough to make you take more of him into your mouth just to hear it again.

He lets out another desperate sound but you can barely hear him over the combined noise of his vent and cooling fan, not that you don't need to at this point to know how close he is.  He's getting so close you don’t even bother to look at him to gauge his reaction when you take half his spike in your mouth and insert two fingers into his valve at the same time.

“A-Autobot code article 53 line 14a…”  

Reciting the Autobot code?  Oh he is trying so hard not to overload it only makes you redouble your effort.  You swirl a thumb over his anterior node and curl your fingers upward.  You can feel the tremors overcoming his frame as he is about to overload and so, after another curl of your fingers, you pull out your fingers from his valve.

“No!”  He knows what he has to say if he wants to overload,but if even if he doesn't just seeing him in this state makes you feel like you've already won.

“Y-Y-Y…”  Doesn’t mean you won’t stop trying though as you begin to pull his spike out of your mouth.  You're at the tip, preparing to let it pop out from your mouth and then...

 

“Y-y-y’all’d’ve!”  

 

...there it was.  At 5 minutes left.  You could probably make him say it louder, feign ignorance that you didn't hear him, but he’s suffered enough for one day.

With that thought in mind you place both of your hands on his hips to hold him down, and take all of his spike in your mouth in one go.  You hear the creaking of metal and a strangled moan as he tries to lift his hips up and it takes all your strength to prevent him from slamming into your mouth.  It's a losing battle though as your arm struggles to hold him down, so you start to hum and the vibration is just enough to send Ambus over the edge as he overloads inside of your mouth.  You take as much as you can,some of leaking out of your mouth, before pulling back from him.  A few final spurts of transfluid getting on you as you pull away.

You take a moment to gather yourself before looking at Ambus.  He looks utterly spent.  Legs limp, chassis heaving, arms just hanging from the cuffs.  You give a fond smile at him as you crawl over him to free his arm.  As soon as they’re free he wraps them around you and pulls you into a hug, ignoring the fact that he’s getting his own transfluid on himself.  He must be really tired if he doesn't care.  

“I suppose you win,” he says as he settles in, optics already dimming as he prepares to go into recharge.

“You know, I think there’s another word you would hate even more.”

Ambus lets out a groan and gently moves your head into the crook of his neck to shut you up.

“Primus help me.”  His only response is muffled laughter from you as you wrap your arm around him.

 

~Omake~

“I totally did a triple onto the chair,”  Rodimus boasts to everyone on deck, “and y’all’d’ve seen it if you were here.”

Ultra Magnus shoots you a dirty look as you give him an innocent smile.

“You taught him that word.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

**Author's Note:**

> https://aurumceleste.tumblr.com/  
> For my writing blog (even if it's empty now, I do check)


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